Deserving
by theotherjordan
Summary: Jordan meets a guy everyone likes for a change. But is he too good to be true?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Adopted a plot bunny that was in the bunny pen over at the Crypt, and am now playing with it. Rating is for potential language and possible content (don't wanna give too much away here) in future chapters. I'm still new at this, and appreciate all the feedback you care to give. Oh yeah, and I don't always follow canon, and I flat out refuse to acknowledge that the Pogue is no longer part of the show.

Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to own Crossing Jordan, or any of the characters. I just play with them, and return them good as new. Hats off to Tim Kring and Tailwind Productions, who DO own CJ.

Jordan stepped out of the elevator into the morgue offices, carrying a go-cup of coffee and whistling an Indigo Girls tune. And ran smack into Garret.

"Well good morning, sunshine. Early _and_ cheerful? To what do we owe this honor?" He was straight-faced as always, but the twinkle in his eyes indicated good spirits.

Jordan smiled at him, absurdly happy at that moment to be working for this man who was not just her boss, but also her friend. She took him by the elbow, halfway dragging him into his office, and kicked the door shut behind them.

"Garret, listen, remember Tom? The guy I met at the market? Tall, dark, very good looking? I introduced you to him at the Pogue last week? Well, I…uh, that is…" Suddenly Jordan realized that she was rattling on like a teenager. She stopped talking and developed a sudden and intense interest in her tennish shoes. To her dismay, she could actually feel her face growing hot.

Garret started to laugh. "Jordan! Are you _blushing_? My goodness, I think that's a first. And this Tom guy is responsible for this? Yeah, I remember you introducing us, but tell me more." He sat on the edge of his desk and looked at her expectantly.

"Well…" Jordan looked up at him from under a tumble of her dark curls. Seeing that he looked seriously interested and wasn't going to poke fun at her, she tucked her hair behind her ear and plunged on. "Tom and I have been going out, you know, movies and dinners and the like, and I really _like_ him. And last night he, uh, stayed over and um, well, you know…" She trailed off, aware that she had a grin plastered on her face that told him the rest of the story.

He smiled at her, thinking he might owe this Tom a drink just because it had been a long time since he'd seen her so, well, joyful. There really was no other word for it. "Jordan, I'm glad for you. You deserve some happiness. Is he a nice guy?" Unlike J.D., was the unspoken end of the sentence, but Jordan heard it too.

"Yeah, he is. He treats me like a princess, he's respectful, he doesn't mind that I cut up dead people for a living, and he's not a police officer, an attorney, or a reporter." In answer to Garret's raised eyebrow, she said "He's a schoolteacher. Junior high. Imagine, I'm dating a schoolteacher!" She shook her head, still grinning. "We're supposed to meet at the Pogue tonight. Why don't you join us? You can grill him to your hearts' content."

Garret smirked. "Gee, don't know why I'd do that. It's not like I don't trust your judgement in men. Given your track record and everything. Seriously, I'll see if I can make it. Better invite Nigel, Bug and Lily too, and get it over with. Poor guy should only have to go through the Inquisition once."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for the interest and the kind reviews! The bunny is hopping right now, so here's chapter 2. Don't forget to review…it greatly inspires me to write new chapters, hint, hint. ;-)

Disclaimer: Still don't own them. But if a meeting could be arranged, maybe I could get Tim to give them to me? Oh, yeah, I guess I do own Tom.

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Jordan hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. She enjoyed working with medical examiners from other states as a rule, but this guy from Texas was driving her nuts. He had asked her to pull seven different case files, and no, no need to call him back, he'd just hold while she did so. He then had her read him the case histories on each and every one of them. Seems he was convinced he had a serial killer in his tiny town (based on one murder), and he was trying to link these cases in Boston to his. Never mind that all seven were solved, with six different perpetrators convicted, and the last case was ruled a suicide. She shook her head ruefully. Now she was late getting to the Pogue, and poor Tom had been at the mercy of her friends for the last hour.

The heavy front door to the bar swung open just as Jordan reached for it, and several young men fell over each other to hold it open for her. Once inside, she looked around the warm, comfortable room, trying to find her friends while extracting herself from her heavy pea coat. It looked like they'd commandeered the entire alcove where the pool table sat, so she asked the bartender for a bottle of Guinness and waited for it. She had to admit, she was a little bit apprehensive about putting Tom in this position without warning him. He was a quiet, almost shy man, and her friends could be a bit much sometimes, even though (or especially when?) they were being protective of her.

"Hey Jordan, what took you so long?" Nigel grabbed her by the waist and swung her around, narrowly missing Garret's pool cue. Good thing her beer was in a bottle, or she'd have been wearing it. Apparently Nigel had gotten there a bit early and had quite a head start on the others.

"Hi guys, sorry I'm late. Four little words. Milton Boyles, Podunk, Texas." Everyone started laughing and talking at once; they had all had some sort of contact with Boyles over the last few days. Jordan looked around for Tom, hoping he hadn't fled, but found him on the far side of the pool table, chalking up his cue and looking straight into her eyes. He mouthed Hi Babe, grinned, and lined up his next shot. Jordan watched in amazement as he dropped two striped balls into the pockets, while putting Garret into an amazingly bad position at the same time. Her shy schoolteacher was a pool shark? With the quirk of one eyebrow, she slapped two quarters on the edge of the table and announced she'd play the winner. She heard Garret mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "Thank God".

Since Tom didn't look like he was bleeding, terrified, or in need of rescue, she left him running the table and joined Lily, Bug and Nigel, who were steadily demolishing a giant platter of potato skins and what looked like the third pitcher of beer. Remnants of at least one pizza were also in evidence. In answer to her incredulous look, Lily blurted defensively "None of us got lunch today!" Bug, his mouth full, merely waved a potato skin at her in greeting, and Nigel looked like he was thinking about trying to kiss her. He always got sentimental when he drank, and she was used to it, so she reached over and popped a half a potato into his mouth, and grabbed one for herself. A look over her shoulder satisfied her that Tom was busy with the game, so it was now or never. "Well? What do you guys think?"

"About what, luv?" Nigel smirked, trying for innocent and failing utterly.

"Oh Jordan, I like him!" Lily came to the rescue. "He seems kind, intelligent…"

"And he knows as much as I do about silkworms!" Bug cut in enthusiastically.

"Oh, okay, I like him too. I have to admit, I was expecting something totally different, but he's all right. Bought the first round. Spoke of you like a gentleman. Knows his music, too." That was high praise indeed from Nigel.

"And Garret? How did he get along with Garret?" Jordan had to ask. His opinion of Tom was very important to her.

Bug swallowed another potato skin and solemnly announced "Garret hates him," which promptly earned him a smack on the arm from Lily. "He does not! Except that I think he's losing his third pool game to Tom, they're getting along well. It was kinda rocky at first, though. I was a little worried when Garret asked Tom for his 'relationship history', but Tom seemed to be expecting it." Lily grinned.

Jordan heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed like everything was going well, and if her friends all liked Tom, then she felt she had the green light to go forward with their relationship. Not that she would have called a halt to it if they hadn't, but it was still nice to have their backing for a change.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Apologies for the slow going. I promise the pace will pick up now. Just had to set the table before we could eat the meal, ya know.

**Disclaimer: Still don't own CJ or any of its characters. Not sure why. Oh yeah, haven't won the lottery yet! Tom is still mine, but I think I'll be willing to sell him soon. **

Jordan woke up the next morning to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She opened her eyes, but the bright stab of light into her brain immediately convinced her that was a bad idea. She scrambled across the bed to grab the phone, wanting desperately for it to stop making that hideous racket.

"Cavanaugh," she groaned.

"Wow, are your eyes as bloodshot as your voice?" Woody's laughing tones reverberated painfully in her skull. "Where are you? I called the morgue and Lily said you hadn't been in yet."

"Mmmmmm." Jordan mumbled, trying to collect her thoughts. She pulled the covers over her head and opened her eyes. Much better. "What time is it?"

"Jordan, are you sick? You really do sound awful! It's after nine, by the way." Woody suddenly sounded concerned.

"No. Yes. Bottle flu, I guess. Wanna do me a favor? Come over here and shoot me. It would be a mercy killing." Jordan tried stretching a little, but gave it up as a bad job when her body seemed to be in just as much pain as her head. "Some of us went to the Pogue after work last night. I think we closed the place down, but I really don't remember." And trying to remember anything after the first two rounds of tequila shooters was making her head hurt worse than it already did, so she stopped. "Why are you calling, anyway?"

Woody was chuckling. He was all too familiar with the symptoms of a serious hangover, and this one sounded like a doozy. "Well, you were going to get me the results on the LeFevre autopsy 'first thing' this morning, remember?"

"Shit. Yeah. Sorry." Jordan scrubbed at her burning eyes with her fist. "I need a shower and some coffee. I promise, I'll be in as quick as I can. I _am_ sorry, Woody."

"S'okay, happens to everyone occasionally. Not to worry. Were you celebrating or drowning your sorrows, by the way? If I'd known you guys were going over there, I'd have joined you."

"Nah, we all had a long day and it just seemed like the thing to do. Nothing special." Jordan lied, aware that she hadn't even given a thought to inviting Woody last night. Garret, of course, had been smart enough not to. "The paperwork on the LeFevre case is all done, I just have to sign off on it. I'll have it to you by ten, okay?"

"Okay. See you then. Remember to drink lots of water with your aspirin, uh, I mean breakfast!" Woody just had to tease her a little. After all, the last time he'd been hung over, she'd certainly taken the opportunity to entertain herself.

"Yeah, thanks. See ya." Jordan sighed. Better to just get it over with. She pulled the covers off her head and slowly sat up. The room spun gently a few times and came to a stop, and she put her feet on the floor. Just as slowly, she stood up, placing her hand against the wall in case the room took off again, but everything seemed to remain stable. This was a good sign. She stumbled into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. Where was Tom, anyway? Oh, yeah, he'd be at work already. He must have turned off her alarm so she could sleep in.

Fifteen minutes later, Jordan stepped out of the shower. Every part of her body still ached, but the hot water had helped. She was toweling off when she noticed she had bruises on both her knees. Big, _dark_ bruises that were tender to the touch. Puzzled, she looked in the mirror to see if there was any other visible damage, and found more bruises on her thighs and upper arms. She must have been really out of it last night; she couldn't remember falling or bumping into anything, but her body looked like she'd been the tackling dummy for a football team. Maybe Tom could shed some light on what happened when he came over tonight. She didn't think he'd been consuming nearly as much alcohol as she did.

She put on her bra and turned to grab a long-sleeved t-shirt and pull it over her head. She looked over her shoulder into the mirror as her arms came up, and saw another set of bruises on her back. Stunned, she lowered her arms. The bruises were clearly in the shape of a man's hands.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ah, so it's leaving you hanging that gets a response, lol! Don't worry, plenty more to come. This is shaping up to be a good long story, so climb aboard, buckle up, and hang on. In the immortal words of The Carpenters, we've only just begun! My job: to write. Your job: to review. And we're off…

(This chapter got a little long, but that's the way it goes sometimes.)

**Disclaimer: No, I have not magically acquired Crossing Jordan since the last chapter. All except for Tom still belong to Tim Kring and Tailwind. Tom is mine…I know y'all hate him right now, but maybe all is not as it seems? **

Jordan stepped off the elevator gingerly, sunglasses firmly in place. They weren't coming off until the aspirin kicked in and she could be sure her eyeballs wouldn't accidentally fall out of her head. She slunk down the hall, hoping to make it to her office unnoticed, but luck was not on her side. Garret and Lily were stopped in front of her office door. They both looked up as Jordan approached. "A little late this morning, Jordan." Garret tried to look stern, and failed. "Feeling the effects of last night?" He almost smirked, but not quite. His own headache was still causing him some trouble.

"No, of course not" Jordan said breezily. "Just had to shave my teeth and tongue before coming in to work." She bared the aforementioned teeth in what might have passed for a smile and tried to edge past them into her office.

Lily giggled, she just couldn't hold back. "Jordan, you were so funny last night!"

"I was? Erm, right. Of course I was. Get in here." Jordan pushed Lily ahead of her into the office and shut the door, almost in Garret's face. He smiled fondly at her closed door, hoped her head hurt worse than his did, and headed for his own office. "Lily, tell me. What the hell happened in that bar last night?"

"Are you all right? I mean, I'm sure you're hung over, you certainly deserved it, but don't you remember _anything_?"

"Jesus, Lily, would I be asking you if I could remember? All I know is I had way too much to drink. I remember playing pool with Tom. I remember Nigel starting in with Truth or Dare and the tequila shooters. I don't remember anything past Bug having to crabwalk around the pool table because he wouldn't tell the truth about the weirdest place he'd ever had sex. That's it. It goes blank after that. God, I swear, I will never drink tequila again!"

"Wow. I had no idea. You seemed to be okay, a little tipsy but okay, right up until we were ready to leave. I would have stopped you if I had known…gosh, Jordan, I'm sorry! Then when it was obvious that you were drunk, Tom was taking care of you, so we all figured it was all right. He got you home okay, didn't he?" Lily looked piercingly at Jordan.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. That's where I woke up this morning, anyway." Jordan made a sudden decision not to tell Lily about the weird bruises. There was bound to be some logical explanation, after all. "Tom had to work, and he shut off my alarm, either by mistake or because he thought I needed the sleep. I never even saw him this morning. Uh, did I do anything I need to be embarrassed about?"

"Oh no, you have a beautiful voice!" Lily said, enthusiastically shaking her head.

"Uh-oh, did I sing? Oh God, don't tell me any more. I don't want to know. Thanks for everything, Lily, but please, let me die in peace now." Jordan sank into her chair and lowered her head onto a stack of paperwork piled on her desk.

"I'll come back and check on you later. Should I put you on the 'strong coffee' request list? I've already got orders from Bug, Nigel and Garret, and you look like you could use some too."

"Yes. Please." Jordan's voice was muffled, her head pillowed on her arms. "Large. Grande. Venti. Whatever's the biggest."

Lily made sure not to let the door slam on her way out. She was just grateful that she'd quit drinking after two beers, or someone else would have to be making the coffee run. But really, Jordan did sing beautifully, drunk or not. She'd have to work on a plan to get her to perform more often.

Hours later… 

Jordan sat in her office, paperwork in front of her, her mind a million miles away. What had she done to acquire those bruises? She had thought about little else all morning. She knew there had to be some benign, perfectly reasonable explanation. She didn't make it a habit to drink to the point of passing out, but obviously, last night she had done just that. She had felt safe with her friends and Tom, and when the drinking games began, she threw caution to the wind and joined in. It felt right at the time, to have fun and be part of the hilarity. She'd forgotten to factor in that she rarely had more than a single beer these days, and those potato skins had been her only meal. She'd just have to 'fess up to Tom that she couldn't recall parts of the evening, and he could fill her in.

She drew a deep breath and reached for the phone. She really disliked admitting that she had lost control, but she had no choice: ask Tom, or go on wondering. She dialed his number, and swore softly when she got his voicemail. Of course, he wasn't out of school yet. "Tom, it's Jordan. Thanks for taking care of me last night. I, uh, I don't usually do that, okay? Please don't think that was normal. Anyway, I need to ask you something…could you call me when you get this? Thanks, sweetie. Again, sorry." She hung up the phone and faced her paperwork again. Might as well get working on it while she was already miserable.

Tom called her back just as she finished signing off on the last autopsy on her desk. "Hey babe, what's up?" He sounded unbelievably cheerful – good thing she was feeling better, or she might have hung up on him.

"Hiya." Jordan gritted her teeth, embarrassed to be in this position. "Look, I have to ask, what happened last night? I guess I kind of overdid it with the tequila, and I don't think I remember everything." There, that sounded…not quite so unaware. Better than admitting she had a total blackout, at any rate.

"Happened? Nothing happened, babe. I took you home when the party broke up. You were pretty well plastered. I put you to bed. We slept. Why, what makes you think something happened?"

"Well, somewhere along the line I must have bumped into something. Did I fall down? Tom, I have a pretty gnarly batch of bruises on me, and I don't know where they came from!" Jordan tried to keep her voice from rising, and almost succeeded.

"Oh, yeah, well those were probably from when you tried to fall down the stairs. I caught you before you went all the way down, but you did connect pretty solidly with the banister. And I think you ran into the dresser when you came out of the bathroom. I'm sorry, I tried, really I did, but you were a noodle by that point, and you kept pushing me away, saying you didn't need any help, and then you'd run into something else. I finally just picked you up and carried you to the bed. I didn't realize that you got hurt, Jordan, I'm really sorry for that." Tom sounded genuinely upset that he hadn't been able to prevent her from banging herself up.

But that still didn't explain the marks on her back. Taking a deep breath, she quietly asked him, "Any idea how come I have the perfect imprint of your hands on my back?"

"I'd guess when you fell in the stairwell, I must have grabbed you pretty hard to keep you from going down the stairs head-first. Geez, Jordan, you don't think I did that on _purpose_, do you? You scared me to death! You were behind me going up, and all of a sudden you made this funny little noise, and when I turned around, you were headed over the railing like a lemming over a cliff! I didn't think about being gentle, I just got a hold of you any way I could!" Tom made a miserable moaning sound. "Honey, I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way, I didn't know how else to stop you."

Jordan exhaled shakily. There, she knew it, a perfectly good explanation. "Oh Tom, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound… I know you wouldn't… I'm sorry you had to take care of me." She was mortified. Obviously she had behaved like a complete ass, Tom had to play babysitter, and she had thought the worst. "Will you let me make it up to you? I'll grab a movie on the way home, cook you a nice dinner, and then we can…" She let her words trail off suggestively, hoping to distract him from lingering on her horrible behavior of the night before.

It worked. Tom murmured a few interesting suggestions of how they could spend the rest of the evening, and laughingly Jordan agreed that any of them would be just fine by her. They hung up, and she discovered the last of her headache was gone. And she was looking forward, very much, to the evening.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Many thanks to those who are reviewing – I appreciate the feedback! I know it seems like this is going nowhere quickly, but hang in there. And try not to hate me for this chapter, please.

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine, except Tom. Not sure why I'm claiming him, either – I'd much rather blame him on someone else.**

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Later that evening, Jordan was sprawled on her couch, her head resting comfortably on Tom's lap as they watched the end of "Autumn in New York". Empty take-out containers from the Chinese restaurant down the street littered the coffee table. Tom's hand was resting on the curve of her hip, and she sighed her content. He looked down at her and smiled.

"Feeling better, babe?"

"Much. I really wasn't sure I was going to make it this morning. I don't think I'll ever look at another shot glass of tequila again in my life."

"About that, Jordan." Tom frowned, suddenly looking very serious. "I don't want you drinking like that anymore. You made both of us look bad in front of your friends. You need to have a little more self-control!"

"Uh, Tom? I think my friends were a little drunk as well. We were just having some fun. What's the problem?" Jordan sat up and regarded him with an answering frown. She wasn't sure where this was going, but she was starting to feel a bit defensive.

Tom stood up and started cleaning off the coffee table. "I just don't want people to think my girlfriend's a lush. Everyone was pretending they didn't notice anything, you know, but I'm sure they had plenty to say after we left. That's not the kind of impression I like to make on people." He carried the empty containers to the kitchen garbage can.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jordan stood up, her hands on her hips, not quite believing what she'd just heard. "Garret and Nigel and Lily and Bug _liked_ you! They wouldn't have trusted you to take me home otherwise. And I'm _sure_ they weren't talking about us after we left, not in that way. They wouldn't. They're not like that."

"That's what you think, Jordan. But you were too drunk to know, weren't you? Trying to be the party girl. You need to act your age, babe, not your shoe size!" He was standing in front of her now, leaning over so his face was directly in hers. His normally gentle brown eyes flashed almost black. "For your information, I didn't enjoy watching you stumbling around bumping into your own furniture last night, and then trying to blame me for it today!" He drew back, looked steadily at her for a moment, and then slapped her hard across the face.

"Tom!" Her mouth opened and snapped shut again. She sank back onto the sofa, raising her hand to her burning cheek, shocked to her core. She couldn't believe he had just hit her.

She felt a surge of anger, but hard on its heels came an enormous crashing wave of shame and self-doubt. She _had_ made a fool of herself last night. He _did_ have to take care of his drunken girlfriend. She _had_ tried to blame him for her bruises. And no doubt that wasn't how he'd pictured their relationship. She'd given him every reason to believe that she was a responsible adult, and last night she'd acted like a selfish child. It _was_ her fault.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since the last update. The Jordan-muse and I have been in a stand-off, and absolutely NOTHING gets written when the muse won't cooperate! She's totally not into being a victim, believe me. Bear with me here; please know that I'm struggling to keep the story line plausible while maintaining canon and keeping Jordan as IC as possible. (She'll flog me if I don't.) I appreciate the feedback very much, and take it into account when I write…keep it coming, please!**

**Disclaimer: Although I seem to live with them, and Jordan sometimes borrows my car without asking, I _still_ don't own any of 'em besides Tom. And he's shaping up to be a real piece of work!**

Jordan sat quietly at her desk, staring a hole through the autopsy report in front of her without really seeing it. If it weren't for the slight swelling over her left cheekbone, she would have sworn the argument with Tom last night had never happened.

Once she'd come to the realization that in his eyes, she'd broken an unspoken promise to him with her behavior, she had apologized and promised to keep her drinking in check in the future. It was clear that, for some reason she didn't yet understand, he had an issue with her getting drunk that went far beyond just being concerned for her safety. She'd just unwittingly pushed his buttons, that was all.

And he'd felt bad about slapping her, she knew that. He made sure to be a slow, considerate lover last night, avoiding her bruises and being careful not to cause her any more pain. He woke her with a kiss this morning, soft and sweet, and tenderly brushed her hair from her forehead before handing her a cup of coffee. Then he was out the door and off to work, leaving Jordan to sip her coffee in the quiet apartment and think. And thinking was what she'd been doing since then.

Jordan had slept in Tom's arms last night and felt safe there. She thought she had decent instincts about people, past choices in men notwithstanding. Anyway, all her friends liked Tom too. Even Garret pronounced him "a good guy", and of anyone, she knew he would be the most critical of her decisions where relationships were concerned.

Tom was offering her something Jordan never really thought was within her grasp, a relationship with someone strong and steady, who took care of her and cared _for_ her. She didn't want to run again, and certainly not because of something that she had complete control over. It wasn't in her nature to change for anybody, but maybe a little tweaking of her lifestyle was a tiny price to pay to feel safe and loved?

Jordan was jolted out of her thoughts by a knock on the open door.

"Sorry luv, didn't mean to startle you." Nigel crossed the room to lay a stack of papers on her desk. "Thinking hard, were we?"

"Yeah, I guess my mind is off somewhere else today. Thanks for bringing these over." Jordan waved her hand at the documents.

Nigel, on his way back out of the room, stopped and backed up again. Before she could protest or escape, he'd put a gentle hand under her chin and tilted her face up into the light. "Jordan?" His voice was suddenly soft, and concern was written all over his face. "How'd this happen?"

She forced herself to look him square in the eyes as she lied to him. "I got up last night for a glass of water and didn't want to turn the light on. I walked into the edge of the wall by the fridge. It's nothing, it'll be gone by tomorrow." Steady, she told herself. If she dropped her gaze now, he'd never believe her.

Nigel frowned and didn't look all that convinced, but he nodded. "Done it myself. Hurts. Get some ice on it when you get the chance, it'll help the swelling." His brown eyes held hers for another moment before he spoke again. "Are you sure you're okay, luv?"

"Sure, I'm fine. Really, Nige, don't make a mountain out of a molehill. It's just a bruise. Next time I'll turn on the light. Lesson learned, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, and gave her a mock salute. He headed out the door and down the hall, and was almost back to the lab when it dawned on him. He'd been in her apartment many times. There was no wall between Jordan's bedroom and her fridge.


End file.
